


The Great Storm

by purajobot935



Series: The Blue and the Lonely [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotions, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Inspired by Music, Loss, Minor Character Death, No Slash, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Storms, Thorin is overwhelmed, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, mentions of the Valar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a storm raging over the Blue Mountains, and Thorin recalls the night of Kili's birth when another Great Storm kept him from his sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Song for a Stormy Night" by Secret Garden.  
> Listen here: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcT6_0HDK-w>  
> It's beautiful.
> 
> Sample lyrics:  
>  _I said I would guard and protect you, and keep you free from all harm_  
>  _And if life should ever reject you, that love would weather each storm_
> 
> Not beta-ed.
> 
> Characters not mine, I just borrow them to indulge my hobby.

__________________________________________________

The low rumble made Thorin look up from the parchment he was busy working on for Balin as a damp breeze blew in through the narrow openings cut into the rock of his bedchambers that passed as windows for him. The candle flame stuttered, but did not go out, and Thorin put down his quill for a moment, listening.

Another rumble, this time louder, made him stand and make his way to the front of the small (to him at least – compared to Erebor, every home since the accursed dragon had been small) dwelling that had been expertly hewn into the rock and stone. Outside, a storm was slowly building in fury around the Blue Mountains, and Thorin could see flashes of lightning around the edges of the closed door and drawn curtains.

On first arriving, and then settling at the Blue Mountains, Thorin had not been inclined to believe the stories of the fierce raging storms – told to him by the Dwarves that called these mountains home – that came in from the Great Sea west of the range. They claimed that the intensity of these storms was the work of Ossë the Maia, who delighted in them, in those rare moments every few years when his wildness was not checked by his spouse Uinen or his master Ulmo.

He had learned that they had heard this explanation from the Elves of the Grey Havens south of the mountains, with which they still shared a certain friendship with.

He had also learned from long, hard experience not to trust to the words of Elves.

So he had dismissed at least the origins of the storms, believing that the Dwarves’ description of them stemmed from exaggeration. After all, before the worm, they had experienced storms at the Lonely Mountains and they were hardly anything to quake in fear of.

That had been before, before he experienced his first Great Storm. He remembered the time…

_**Two Years Ago** _

_The crashing thunder drowned out the sound of pounding on his front door the first time, but it had been loud enough to wake him up from his deep sleep in time to hear it the second time._

_Pushing off his blankets, he rose from his bed, grumbling about who in Durin’s name thought it was a good idea to rouse him at this hour of night and how they had better have a good reason for it. Labouring for long hours in the mines was no easy task and the sleep he got at night was something he treasured at the end of days like the one he’d just had._

_He flung open the door, getting a spray of rainwater in his face, and he was just about to snarl at the figure before him until another streak of lightning identified it as Balin. Swallowing the remark, he frowned, knowing the elder Dwarf would not have come by this late, in such a storm, unless for a matter of urgency._

_“What is it?” he asked._

_“Dís is having her child,” Balin spoke above the howl of the wind._

_Thorin’s frown deepened and he reached for the boots and cloak he kept by the door. “It is three weeks too early.” He prepared to run to his sister’s aid; early births did not bode well for either mother or child._

_Balin stopped him. “Thorin.” His face was grave. “Oin has gone to her, and I will go now to assist him. You, however, have another care.”_

_He glanced down to his right and it was only then that Thorin noticed the small half-shadow that clung to Balin’s side. Gold hair, dulled by darkness and water that dripped into wide green eyes, peeked out from a soaking wet hood, and Thorin looked back at the exhausted face of his five-year-old nephew, too tired to be afraid of the storm._

_“Fíli?”_

_“He ran out into the storm to fetch me and Oin when his mother went into labour,” Balin explained. “I would rather not have him there in case there are… complications. And we have not the time to care for him if we are seeing to Dís.” He gently pushed the child to Thorin. “Now I must go to her.” With that, he turned and ran back into the storm._

_Thorin fought every instinct to run after him. Dís was all that was left of his family and by Durin’s beard he wanted to make sure she would be safe! What kind of King, what kind of BROTHER would he be otherwise? This was not right. He SHOULD be by her side, telling her to be strong, to hold on, she would be fine._

_A sharp little sneeze drew his gaze down to what he was left with._

_Fíli, his heir, standing on his doorstep and waiting for his uncle to do something while the storm continued raging behind him, drenching his already soaked frame in more rainwater._

_Thorin chastised himself instantly. “Forgive me, little one. Come.”_

_He picked up the child and shut the door, carrying him to his bedroom where a small fire still burned. The boy was shaking with cold and cuddled close to Thorin’s warm frame. Holding him in one arm, Thorin threw more wood onto the fire to build it up, before setting Fíli down on his feet and crossing the room to a small alcove._

_There was nothing he had by way of dry clothes in Fíli’s size so he had no choice but to fish out an old undershirt that had grown soft over time and throw it to the boy who caught it deftly._

_“Take off your wet things and leave them by the fire to dry, and put that on for now. Then sit on the bed so I can dry your hair,” Thorin instructed._

_Fíli nodded and did as he was told, and as Thorin watched, he recalled something Balin had said earlier. Even though the exiles from the Lonely Mountain lived fairly close to each other here in Ered Luin, mountain paths were still treacherous in the dark and especially so in a great storm such as this._

_“You were foolish to run out into a storm like that,” Thorin reprimanded, far gentler than usual, as he dried his nephew’s hair with his own towel. “But it was brave of you, little one, very brave.”_

_“I was more scared of Mama screaming than of the storm,” Fíli replied. “She held her belly and said it hurt so bad.”_

_“What happened?” Thorin asked. “How did this come about?”_

_“The thunder was so loud. Scared Mama, too. Then she started to cry. Then she screamed because her stomach hurt and said the baby was coming. She said Mister Oin could help.”_

_“So you went to fetch him,” Thorin guessed and Fíli nodded. “Then you went to Balin, and not me, why?” He tried not to sound too hurt._

_Fíli shook his head. “Mister Balin was at Mister Oin’s house. They were writing things. Mister Balin sent Mister Oin to Mama and brought me here.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Should I have fetched you first?” Fíli’s green eyes were wide as they looked up at him._

_Thorin drew him close, tossing the towel aside onto a nearby chair now that the lad’s hair was mostly dry. “No, little one. You were right to go for the healer first. He can probably help your mother more than I can.” It pained him a bit to admit that, but there was no denying a truth._

_“What do we do now?” Fíli asked._

_“We wait… and in the meantime, you should try and get some sleep.” He released the child and gave him a light nudge. “Under the covers with you, you’re exhausted.”_

_“But I want to know what’s happened to Mama.” Fíli nonetheless obeyed his uncle and crawled under the warm covers. Outside, the wind howled, and he curled on his side, fair hair spread over the pillow and glinting like gold strands in the firelight._

_The elder Dwarf sat on the bed to the lad’s left and faced him. “As do I, but we must endure till Oin or Balin brings us news.”_

_“Then I’ll stay awake with you,” Fíli replied, but already his eyes were starting to close._

_“Of course,” Thorin said, stroking the child’s head until the little dwarfling fell asleep in moments._

 

 

~*~

_He wasn’t sure when he had dozed off, lulled by the sound of Fíli’s breathing beside him as the child slept on, but once more he awoke to someone pounding on his front door. He was out of the bed in seconds, careful not to rouse his nephew as he hastily made his way out of the bedroom._

 

_Once more he found Balin on his doorstep, and once more he saw that he wasn’t alone. This time Oin was with him, a bundle clutched in his arms._

_Thorin’s eyes widened with worry. “Dís. What has happened? The infant?”_

_Balin gently pushed him back so they could enter and be out of the storm, shutting the door behind them. “The babe is fine. Small, but healthy. You have a second heir, Thorin Oakenshield.”_

_A small smile graced his lips fleetingly. “A boy.”_

_Oin nodded. “Kíli.”_

_“That is good news.” Then the smile vanished. “What of Dís? How is she? Can I go to her?”_

_Balin looked past him to the bedroom. “Is Fíli asleep?”_

_“He drifted off some time ago. Balin.” His voice grew hard. “What of my sister? Will someone please tell me what has happened?”_

_Both elder dwarves lowered their heads, Balin reaching a hand out to grasp Thorin’s arm. “Dís rests now with your brother and grandfather, and her husband.”_

_Thorin shook himself from Balin’s hold and took a step back, shaking his head. “No. That cannot be so. You’re mistaken. She is of the line of Durin, she is strong!”_

_“She gave all her strength to her newborn,” Balin replied. “Had she not done so, we would have lost them both.”_

_“It cannot be!”_

_“Keep your voice down, lest you wake both Fíli and the babe,” Balin snapped uncharacteristically._

_Thorin stared at him, trying to process everything he was hearing. “The babe?”_

_“Dís’ dying wish was that you be guardian to her children. Your heirs. ‘Let him raise them as his own’ were her last words to you.”_

_Only then did Thorin notice that the bundle Oin carried in his arms was the newborn, well wrapped to shield it – him – from the storm till he could be delivered to his uncle. Oin readjusted some of the cloth and then placed the infant in Thorin’s arms, and looking at the sleeping face Thorin noted the child had the dark hair of Durin’s line, much like his own._

_Much like his sister’s._

_“Balin,” he started, and his voice cracked. “I cannot… I’m not their mother.” His eyes grew moist with tears he would not shed and he looked to his kinsman. “They’re so young, this one just born. I do not know…”_

_Balin stepped closer again and once more placed a comforting hand on the arm that now supported the youngest in their family, their race. “You helped to care for Fíli when he was but a babe. You can do the same for young Kíli… and you will not be alone, laddie.”_

_“I cannot-.”_

_“You must. As their uncle, you are their closest kin. You’re all they have.” He gave a gentle squeeze. “You will need each other.”_

_Oin cleared his throat softly and this time it was Balin who stepped away, both dwarves moving to the door. Oin opened it and stepped out, and Balin moved to follow before pausing and looking back at his king and the infant prince._

_“Get some sleep for now, if you can, lad, and break the news slowly to Fíli in the morning.”_

_“Take care of her.” Thorin said._

_Balin nodded and shut the door._

_The storm raged on, and Thorin’s emotions raged with it – the fury that was so easily kindled in him starting to spark. He wanted to scream, to charge out into the storm and roar at whatever higher being thought it would be amusing to bring down these calamities upon his line and his family. Aulë, Ulmo, Mandos, Manwë himself, Thorin didn’t care at this point, he just wanted to scream at them._

_Hadn’t they already taken enough from him when they snatched his grandfather, father and brother, to say nothing of his homeland?! Now they had to take his sister, too?! She, the only thing, the LAST thing he had left in this world, that he truly treasured._

_Thunder crackled above the mountains and the plaintive cry of a child cut through the darkness swirling in his head, bringing him to…_

...................  
To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**The Present**

Thorin looked up from his brooding at the sound, his feet already in motion to the room where his nephews slept, drawn instinctively by the sounds of the wailing dwarfling. Kíli never did like thunderstorms despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that he had been born in the middle of one.

The closer he got however, the softer the cries became until, by the time he slowly pushed open the door, they had gentled to quiet sobs. Peeking inside, he saw Fíli seated on his bed, carefully and gently rocking a two-year-old Kíli in his arms and whispering soft words of comfort to his frightened brother.

“Take my hand, Kíli,” he murmured, offering his left hand to his baby brother and smiling as Kíli’s smaller hands latched on to his wrist and fingers. “There you go. It’s going to be alright.”

“Scare, Fee.”

“I know you’re scared, but it’s okay, I’m here.” Fíli looked up when he heard Thorin’s bare foot scrape against the stone. “Uncle Thorin’s here, too.”

Kíli’s head whipped around at the mention of his uncle’s name, large, dark eyes seeking out and settling on Thorin while his little mouth curved upwards into a bit of a smile. Then the thunder crashed overhead again and Kíli squeaked in fright, curling up against his brother’s chest and trembling.

Thorin crossed the room in seconds as Fíli tried his best to soothe the dwarfling. Climbing to sit on the bed beside his older nephew, he gently drew Kíli into his lap, careful not to break the grip the younger of the two had on his brother’s hand. One arm held the dark-haired toddler to him, while the other went around his fair-haired sister-son so Fíli could snuggle against his side.

“Come now, my Kíli, you must be brave,” he said. “This, too, shall pass, like every other.”

“So loud.”

Kíli’s voice was so small that it was all Thorin could do not to just wrap him up in lamb’s wool and shut him away from the world. Them, he amended as he looked at his older nephew who was trying his best to fight off sleep so he could watch over his brother. That however would benefit neither them nor him in the long run, so instead he settled for just keeping them wrapped in his arms. For now, it was good enough.

“I know.”

“Scare.”

“Shh, don’t be. I am here, and your brother is here. We will protect you, won’t we, Fíli?”

The older dwarfling stifled a yawn with his free hand. “Always, Kee. Always.” He leaned closer and placed a little kiss to his brother’s brow, and Thorin’s heart warmed at the sight of it. “Are you hungry?”

Kíli knew that word well, Thorin realized, given the way the toddler uncurled a bit and looked at his brother, nodding slightly. Fíli smiled.

“Goat’s milk? Mister Balin brought some skins of it this morning.”

The next nod was a little more emphatic. Clearly Fíli knew best how to distract his little brother from the storm that, thank Aulë, sounded like it was easing. Thorin raised his arm so Fíli could move after he gently extracted his hand from Kíli’s grip.

“Perhaps we should all have some.”

Fíli stared for a moment. “Really, Uncle?”

“We have all had a rough night.” A small smile played on Thorin’s lips. “Take a candle with you, but have a care where you place it.”

“Yes, Uncle. I’ll be back soon, Kíli!”

Thorin settled back against the wall, still cradling Kíli in his arms and stroking the dark downy hair on the dwarfling’s head, both to soothe his nephew and calm his own frayed nerves. He recalled doing this same gesture that very night when he’d first held a newborn Kíli in his arms…

__**Two Years Ago** __

_He realized then, with painful clarity that, no, his sister was not the last. She had left him something – TWO somethings – to still hold on to; something to still treasure. He allowed his gaze to rest on the squirming babe he carried as he now scrunched up his little face and started to wail._

_Thorin nearly dropped him._

_Quickly regaining his wits, he realized that the infant was probably hungry, and he cursed Oin and Balin for just dumping the child on him with no other resources for him to care for it – him. Rocking the babe gently in his arms, he tried his best to remember how his sister had managed to feed Fíli when he had been just a newborn._

_He had some goat’s milk, he knew, and a waterskin. How he was supposed to fill up a skin with milk while still carrying a crying dwarfling, he did not know, and for a moment he despaired as he paced the room trying to ease the crying that was not helped by the thunder overhead. Balin’s words came back to him and he knew the old Dwarf was right._

_He could not do this alone._

_“Uncle Thorin?” came a small sleepy voice._

_Thorin had never been gladder to hear that voice in all his life. “Stay where you are, little one, it is rather dark out here. I will come to you.”_

_Still trying to soothe the crying infant in his arms, he turned and made his way to his bed chambers. The fire still burned there, providing the room with some much-needed warmth, and as he entered, he saw Fíli sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes – eyes that widened when they immediately spotted what Thorin was carrying._

_“Is that…?” he asked, a little breathless with wonder._

_“Fíli, this is your brother, Kíli.” Thorin sat on the bed beside his nephew so the dwarfling could see._

_The babe’s crying had become little hiccupped sobs. One of his hands had worked its way free of the wrappings and as the thunder sounded again, it curled into a tiny fist as if looking for something to hold on to. Fíli looked at his uncle as tears continued to pour down the infant’s face._

_“Kíli afraid of the storm?” he asked._

_“Perhaps.”_

_“Oh.” Fíli hesitated a moment while Thorin stroked the babe’s head in an effort to try and calm him somewhat. “Can I have him, Uncle?”_

_Thorin looked up to see that Fíli had scooted further up the bed so his back was leaning against the wall, and had crossed his legs so he could rest the infant in them like a cradle. Silently, the elder Dwarf called down blessings on his fair-haired nephew’s head for his resourcefulness even at this tender age._

_“Alright, but you must be very careful. Here, hold your arm like so.” He positioned Fíli’s left arm. “Always keep his head and neck supported.” He placed the newborn then in Fíli’s lap, letting his head rest on the older dwarfling’s arm. “There.”_

_Fíli smiled brightly. “Here, little Kee. Take my hand now, it’ll be alright.” He cooed softly to the babe as he brought his right hand within reach. His younger brother immediately latched on to the slightly larger fingers and to Thorin’s amazement, the sobbing eased, even if only a little. Fíli giggled then as Kíli tried to suckle on his fingers and Thorin was reminded of his original purpose._

_Milk._

_“Little one, do you think you can watch your brother? I also believe he’s hungry and I must prepare some milk for him,” Thorin said. “I won’t be long.”_

_“We’ll be fine, Uncle. I’ll watch over Kee.” Fíli didn’t even look up, occupied as he was with this new brother and potential ally of his that he had suddenly been entrusted with. “Nothing will happen to him while I’m here.”_

_Thorin thought his heart would burst with the love he felt for his two nephews in that moment – a reminder that there were those still worth living, worth fighting, for. “Good lad, Fíli. Good lad.”_

_With an affectionate pat to the fair head, Thorin stood and, with a candle, made his way to the kitchen. There, he lit a small fire and started to warm the milk in a small saucepan. Then there was the matter of how to feed it to the infant. He tried to recall how his sister had done so when Fíli had been a babe._

_A waterskin, he remembered. A cork with a hole through it, tapering narrow on one end so the babe could suckle and drink slowly. Quickly he grabbed a cork and knife and got to work, so he was done by the time the milk had warmed and could fill the skin. The rest he poured into a small tin mug for Fíli and brought both back to the bedroom._

_“Here, lad, take this and let me have him,” he said as he sat on the bed once more and draped the waterskin on Fíli’s shoulder._

_Carefully he lifted the babe from Fíli’s lap and cradled him in one arm, mindful not to break the grip he had on his brother’s hand, and passed Fíli the mug so he could take the skin back. Fíli sipped as he watched Thorin put the cleaned, narrow end of the cork to Kíli’s lips and slowly raise the skin, letting the milk trickle slowly into the hungry mouth. Both of them looked relieved when the infant began to feed._

_It would never be mother’s milk, but it was still something, and Kíli would survive._

_“Uncle…” Fíli’s voice suddenly seemed so loud in the quietness of the room._

_“Yes, little one?” Thorin asked._

_“Why are you doing this and not Mother?”_

_Thorin knew waiting till morning to tell Fíli had been a fool’s hope at the least. He sighed, his heart growing heavy again as he searched for the words to tell his young nephew that his mother was dead. There would never be the right words, he knew. Just like there hadn’t been the right words when he had to break the news of Frerin’s death to Dís, or of her husband’s death, or her own father’s._

_“Uncle?”_

_“Your mother is resting, Fíli.” He knew his voice shook and he cursed himself, pausing to dab at a drop that had splashed onto Kíli’s face and mingled with the infant’s tears. “With your father.”_

_“Oh.”_

_Thorin didn’t dare look at his older nephew’s face._

_“No more pain for her then?”_

_“No, Fíli. No more pain.”_

_There was a sudden warm presence at Thorin’s side, and two arms that wrapped around his waist before a slight dampness spread across his chest as a fair head pressed against it trying to muffle sobs._

_“Uncle…?”_

_The voice was soft, and Thorin thought his heart would break as he heard a slight quaver to it. Kíli blissfully continued to drink his fill._

_“Yes, Fíli?”_

_“Are you going to rest, too? With Mother?”_

_Thorin dropped a kiss to the light hair. “No. No, I will never leave you or your brother. That is one thing you will never have to fear. I will always be here for you both.”_

_Fíli nodded. “Okay.”_

_At this point Kíli pulled away from the now-empty waterskin, having drunk his fill, and let out a small belch that, despite their sorrow, made uncle and brother smile as Thorin cleaned up the remnants that had spilled from the child’s mouth. Feeling full and warm now, Kíli yawned, much to the older dwarves’ fascination, and settled down to sleep._

_Putting the skin away, Thorin rocked the babe gently, still careful not to break the hold the little dwarfling had on his brother’s hand. Fíli kissed the tiny fingers._

_“He looks so much like Mother.” His voice was still small and still quivered. “Why did she have to go so soon? And… and leave Kíli like this? He needed her.” Fíli’s eyes never left his brother. “I needed her.”_

_“There are some questions we may never know the answers to, little one,” Thorin replied softly. “But all questions and answers must wait till morning. Grief will be easier to bear once the storm has passed and the sun is in the sky. For now, let us follow your brother’s example and sleep away what is left of the night.”_

_Thorin leaned back against the few pillows, letting Kíli sleep in his arms, while Fíli remained pressed to his side and rested his fair head on the broad chest. Let the morrow bring what it would. For now, he had this…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your Kudos and comments. They're really encouraging on those days when I'm really beaten down from work and still trying to churn out words.
> 
> Trying to work in the minute details got a bit... worrisome. Usually (even with Dis around in some fics) it's never really mentioned how they cared for babies in that day and age. Did they have cows in the Blue Mountains? Probably not, so I went with goats. How did they even feed babies if the mother was not around to breastfeed? They certainly did not have modern day milk bottles, so had to improvise with the waterskin... Makes you glad for modern equipment in a sense.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Present**

He watched his nephews as they sipped the warm milk from their small tin mugs, having finished his own in two quick gulps. The room was quiet save for the rumblings of thunder overhead, and Kíli’s soft whimpers in response. Then Fíli would catch his little brother’s eyes over the rims of their mugs and make his eyebrows wiggle so that Kíli’s sound of distress would turn into a muffled giggle.

“You are going to make your brother choke on his milk,” Thorin chided gently, though without any real force behind it. Kíli chose this very moment to cough, and he instinctively patted the child’s back. “There, see?”

Fíli only grinned as he put aside his mug. “He just likes you rubbing his back, don’t you, Kee?”

Kíli only giggled again, some milk dribbling down his chin. Fíli grabbed a cloth and cleaned him up quickly so he wouldn’t soil his nightshirt, taking the mostly empty mug away from the dwarfling since Kíli had now turned to playing.

Thorin watched them fondly, knowing Kíli was trying to be brave despite the slight tremors that ran through his little body whenever the thunder got louder than was comfortable for him. He watched as Fíli gathered up the mugs and took them back to the kitchen for washing in the morning, his heart aching for the boy who now had to share the role of parent with his uncle in addition to being an older brother.

They should be living as carefree princes, his mind told him, bitterly. They should not have to know loss or hardship at so young an age. Fíli should be playing with other dwarf children, not foraging for food to help feed them, in between helping to care for young Kíli while Thorin was away working or searching for work so they could have more than fallen, bruised apples for food.

He was distracted from his thoughts by Kíli shifting in his lap, bringing one little hand up to rub at his eyes as sleep and fear warred within him.

“Oh, my poor little warrior, you’re exhausted,” he murmured as he cuddled the dwarfling close to him. “You must try and sleep now, the worst seems to be over.”

Kíli shook his head hurriedly. “Sky still angry.”

“But it will not stay that way. The sky too grows weary and must rest.” 

Thorin saw the battle in his nephews face again and for a moment felt at a loss. He wished more than ever for Dís’ presence. She would have known what to do to comfort tired, frightened children; she had always had a way to soothe him whenever he woke up in the middle of the night, usually from dreaming of the horrors of Erebor or Moria.

“Sing him something, Uncle.” Fíli had returned to the room and clambered up on the bed beside him. “Like you and Mother used to sing to me.” Green eyes shone on the dim firelight and Thorin knew he was remembering Dís’ voice soothing him to sleep in his younger days before Kíli.

How he wished he could hear that voice again.

And then Fíli was off the bed again, moving across the room, and when Thorin looked down there was a small wooden harp being pushed into his free hand. Kíli looked at it, both sleep and fear cowed by curiosity.

“What that?”

“It’s a harp, it makes music.” Fíli had returned to his brother’s side. “Like this.” Light fingers ran over the strings creating a haphazard chord that made Thorin cringe slightly.

“I try?” Kíli asked.

“When you’re older,” Thorin replied. “The strings are not for tender fingers just yet.”

But he graced his fair-haired nephew with a smile. He, too, remembered Dís chasing away his nightmares with her quiet singing, and if it worked for two of the line of Durin, why not a third? He plucked at a string, pondering a song that would calm both his nephews enough that they could sleep.

“The one you sang that morning…” Fíli said.

Neither of them had to say which morning.

“Very well.”

Fíli moved so Thorin could lay Kíli down between them, and the dark-haired dwarfling went without a fuss, hand latching on to his brother who didn’t mind in the least as they waited to hear the song. Thorin plucked a few more strings, recalling the words and the melody. 

Then he sang, recalling that morning he and Fíli had stood by a stone mound – Kíli still a sleeping, blissfully ignorant babe in his arms – Fíli weeping, and him trying to console the boy as best he could with a promise set to music.

“I said I would guard and protect you  
And keep you free from all harm…”

_**Two Years Ago** _

_“And if life should ever reject you  
That love would weather each storm.”_

_The song had quietened Fíli’s crying to muffled sobs as he pressed his face to Thorin’s leg, trying to get some control of his emotions before he woke his sleeping brother. Thorin reached down with his free hand and stroked the golden head gently, trying to soothe the lad and keep his own emotions in check._

_The touch of the bright hair on his work-roughened palm in that moment was the only thing to pull him back from the brink of despair, while the dark head that rested in the crook of his other elbow served to anchor him to the firm stone beneath his feet._

_He would not orphan these lads any further._

_But if there were tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, neither he nor Fíli spoke of it._

_“What happens now?” Fíli’s small voice drifted away on the breeze._

_“We go on,” was all Thorin could say. “Your mother would not have us stop living.”_

_“She did.”_

_Thorin wanted to agree with him, wanted to be angry at her for abandoning him as well – he needed her just as much as he sons did – but he knew better, even if the lad didn’t. “Sometimes the choices we get are not so simple, Fíli.” He glanced at little Kíli, gurgling softly as he dreamed, remembered how Dís had looked the day she was born – they were not unlike. “I believe she yet lives, in your brother.”_

_Fíli looked up, blinking eyes red from crying. “Will he be like her?”_

_“I believe he has her strength.”_

_“He does have a grip on him.” Fíli tried to smile as Thorin crouched so he could have a better look at his brother. “We have to look after him now. He’s all we have left of Mother.”_

_Thorin gave a small smile of his own. “You both are… and we will.”_

_“He looks a bit cold.” Fíli took off his coat and draped it over the infant who seemed to relax further in Thorin’s arms. “There, that’s better, Kee.”_

_“You’re a good brother, Fíli, but come, it is indeed getting colder and we should get you both back inside and leave your mother to her rest.”_

_The young dwarfling nodded, pausing only to leave a kiss on the headstone, before taking his uncle’s hand and walking with him down the mountain path towards their dwelling. “Are we going to be living with you from now on then?”_

_“Yes, unless there is some other Dwarf family that you would like to stay with.” There was a slight twinkle in Thorin’s eye._

_Fíli shook his head furiously. “There’s no one better than you, Uncle.” Then he hesitated. “Should we call you ‘Father’ instead now?”_

_“No, little one, ‘Uncle’ will be just fine.” He was never going to be a replacement parent._

_“Okay. Where will we sleep?”_

_“My bed will suffice until we can have a room hewn for you and your brother. Now, do not worry yourself with these trivialities. They will be taken care of in due time. I just want you to focus on growing up and growing strong. Your brother will need a model to look up to.”_

_“I’m going to be the best big brother ever,” Fíli said as he pushed open the door to his new home._

_“Then begin your first task by taking him to the bed so he can sleep more comfortably.”_

_Thorin gently placed the younger of the two in his brother’s arms, watching as Fíli carried him to the bedroom, before heading to the kitchen to warm the milk he knew Kíli would cry for as soon as he woke. Briefly he thought of his sister again as he waited for the small stove to heat, but he pushed the thought from his mind._

_The dead had had his attention. It was time he focused on the living._

_He found Fíli asleep on the bed, exhausted from grief, Kíli cuddled in his arms. Thorin sighed fondly and carefully removed the babe so Fíli could sleep without accidentally smothering him, placing him in the little ‘nest’ of blankets he had rigged in the center of the bed until he could have a proper crib made or brought over._

_Fíli sighed in his sleep and shifted closer to the nest before settling down again. Thorin pressed a kiss to the lad’s temple…._

**The Present**

He looked down at the brothers with a softened gaze before draping a blanket over their slumbering forms, having finally succumbed to sleep listening to the mellow song he sang to them and the gentle sound of the harp he played.

Little Kíli cuddled against his brother’s form as Fíli curled protectively around him. Neither stirred as Thorin tucked the blanket around them and kissed first the dark head, then the fair, moving away a stray lock of hair that tickled the older dwarfling’s nose as he snored softly.

“Sleep well, my little ones,” he murmured.

Rising, he placed his harp away on a higher shelf where Kíli could not reach – he did not trust the lad to keep his curiosity in check at this age – and moved to blow out some of the candles in the room. 

That done, he headed to the door where he paused and looked back at them, something in his heart stirring. He still had much to do in preparation for the morrow: there were forms to fill, letters to write, agreements to sign and seal; all this important for the governing of a people even if they were in exile.

Yet, as he looked at the boys – his boys – he knew that no amount of parchment and ink were as important as they were. The wind still howled with the promise of more rain before the night was done. Ossë the Maia seemed to be working hard tonight as well, if Thorin was to believe the legend.

He looked out into the hall. The candle in his workroom had gone out, leaving the only light to be that coming from the fireplace behind him, bathing the room and the sleeping dwarflings in a warm glow.

Someone would have to stay and make sure the fire would not go out, Thorin reasoned with himself, lest the lads get cold. It was a perfectly valid reason. Balin would understand.

Mind made up, Thorin returned to the bed and stretched out on the other side of Kíli, smoothing the soft downy hair with his hand while pillowing his head on his other arm as he watched them sleep. Unconsciously he hummed an old Dwarven lullaby even as he told himself that he was not falling asleep – he was merely resting his eyes for a few moments.

Outside, Ossë continued to play unbridled. Thorin laid an arm protectively over the children.

Let the storms come. He would be their mountain to shield them.

~END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That took a bit longer than expected, but here's the last bit of this story.  
> It's not the end, however, as I do want to explore a bit more on the relationship between little!Fili and Kili and Thorin as their only parental figure. Just all those little moments of growing up. Hopefully Real Life will grant me time to do this.

**Author's Note:**

> The first in what I hope to be a series of 'little' stories that take a look at the early lives of Fili and Kili with Thorin. I just really want to see Thorin being a little domestic and raising Fili and Kili like they were his own sons. I felt bad about Dis, I really did, but I also wanted to have them as the last of Durin's line (something tells me Dain would not have inherited had Dis still been alive) so Thorin has extra reason to be a mother bear.


End file.
